Is it possible to grieve through PTSD symptoms? Because I hurt. I physically ache, just as I did back then. Yet I am not traumatised, not like before at least. It will always be horrific, but I am sure it is not trauma, not anymore.

Then the physical pain has to be a manifestation of the emotional pain that I just cannot release, right?

The only release is to cry, and therefore that means, right now I have no choice but to try to keep it inside. I have been fighting the tears all day long. And fight it I must because to shed tears, is to plunge myself into darkness. Into a black hole, that is so deep and so dark that I am terrified I won’t ever find my way out. Until I find a way around that, the pain can only be released by my agony. Hideous, awful, physical pain.

Mother’s day was just too much, it reminded me of that day. And now I cannot shake the feelings of loss. And I cannot shake him either. What he did and what he caused.

*Big Trigger warning here. If you are likely to be triggered, or if you would rather not know some details of my abuse, please don’t read on*




As I lay underneath my husband last night, I felt my abuser. Where I was safe and loved, he disturbed us. He interrupted something beautiful and intruded on what is ours.  And I was there, back there. It was no longer night and I was no longer safe. Trapped, afraid and in a great deal of pain.

That day he pushed me to floor, like so many times before, and he took. And he took. Despite my pleas, despite the blood, it would not end.

Then he abandoned me, leaving  me completely alone, with a burden I did not know how to bear.

And out there, in the cold and surrounded by death, we lost all that we had left.



I lost so much and it hurts. I hurt.

I wish someone could take this from me.



Looking for Peace (in the wrong place).

A little normality resumes today, at least in that the husband is back to work and the children are back to arguing. I have a few more days off work, in which I hope to have further time to rest. It hasn’t felt like a restful holiday so far. Not because I’ve been busy running around, quite the opposite in fact. It’s just that even when I am resting, I do not feel rested at all.

This morning, I was hoping to find some peace and quiet. The oldest boy was playing his new game and the youngest snuggled up on the couch still in his pjs, watching his favourite cartoon. I took the opportunity to relish the quiet and have a little time to myself. It’s a beautiful morning here, a cold, crisp day. It looks like a winter postcard or a Christmas card out there.

I seated myself on my window seat, with a hot drink and for a moment or two, breathed in the quiet and marveled at the beauty out side. Some moments later, I checked in with myself- grounding as normal to be sure I was present. It was then that I realised, my chest was heavy, my breathing laboured and where the day had started out so light, there was all of a sudden, a halo of darkness surrounding me.

I could feel myself slipping, so quickly and unexpectedly. That darkness was approaching, ready to envelope me. And I knew what I had to do, in order to climb out. I knew that it was up to me to pull myself away. Except I just couldn’t. I was already on the downward spiral, and though I knew it all it would take is a side step out, I just couldn’t muster the energy to do it for myself.

In the end, in a similar manner to my T  just last week, it was my husband who pulled me out. So simply and easily and now one hour later I am immersing myself in the sounds and smells of my home. I have escaped some of that darkness at least. The memories I was stuck in are not so close as they were, but some of the dark and scary feelings remain.

It is the light I am willing to envelope me right now.


It was peace I was seeking this morning and although I thought I had all the right conditions to achieve that, I had forgotten the most important thing, that peace begins from within. And right now, I do not feel peace inside me, instead it feels more like a storm. How can I possibly feel any peace when I feel so twisted up inside?



Alone. One day.

Your family are out and you are busy tidying up the destruction only two small children can make.

In your son’s room, wading through the pieces of plastic and tiny bits of Lego you are trying to find the floor among the chaos.

On your knees, picking up the pieces of a board game, paying attention to the colour, the texture of the pieces of plastic animals in your grip, you are ensuring to keep grounded while you are alone.

When you look up and out of the window at the sun breaking through the clouds, at the beauty of the green trees that almost but not quite, block the sun.

The sun is like a spotlight- you on your knees, looking right up. And you can’t contain it, just for a few moments, you just can’t keep it in any longer.

As much as you fight it, even though you try to block it out with your hand, it keeps on shining down on you. Shining so brightly, which seems so very wrong because you are paralysed. On your knees and paralysed by your grief, by an agony that no one you know could ever begin to imagine.

You fight it, you battle it with every piece of you, but still you can’t move. So you pray. You beg for it to stop and you wonder if He is listening, if He even gives a shit, because He never seemed to back then..

You are alone now, as alone as always. So you push it away and you get to your feet, like a thousand times before.  With a throbbing head, you reflect on the loneliness, the pain and on almost breaking down.

You wonder if it will ever be safe to let go and you reach the usual conclusion:

One day. Maybe one day you will feel safe enough to let it out. Maybe one day, you won’t feel so alone.



Hate and Love.

There’s so much contained inside right now that I feel as if I may burst, but I couldn’t express it today, I couldn’t let go. Every time I feel that pain I am filled with hate and I burn with rage.

I don’t want to do this, I don’t want this. How do I deal with this? I want Christmas back, that energy, those moments of peace. I want to feel alive again, not just exist.  I wrote this when I got home from T:

I won’t remember you this way, you are not a person, you are not the same as me, or anyone I know. You are the monster, you are not real, you were never real. I don’t want to see you, or to remember the way you looked, I don’t want to recall the attraction. You must remain the monster, a monster without a face, you must. You have to.

You ruined every moment of us that I held dear, every treasured memory has been tainted and for that I am grateful. I don’t want to remember you fondly, I don’t want to remember any good within you, only the bad.  It has to be that black and white, it just has to.

Your manipulation and your control is all I want to see in those many embraces and all the tender kisses I cannot scrub from my memory. I want to see your dominance and hold over me while I remember how you groomed me into loving you. And when I am hit by flashes of your scent, or I feel your touch upon me, nothing but fear and horror is acceptable. I will not miss you or find any comfort, I will not mourn for the loss, or grieve for what was. I cannot accept that conflict goes on within me because the you I loved did not exist, it was never true and it was never right.  I reject the feelings of loss, I reject the grief and I reject the heartbreak.

When I choose, I will cry over what you did and all that horrific abuse, I may cry for the loss and for the ideal, but I will not grieve for you. You will not have my tears, not over this, not for you. I will not let go, I will not cry over “our love”. You are not deserving of my tears or any more of my pain. You deserve hate, you deserve my rage, all of it, every bit of it focused on you, the real you, the monster.


Rebuilding my world.

We all live in this world together,

But in our heads we have our own private worlds

Billions of mini hidden worlds within the world.

One day mine was destroyed. It all came crashing down

Though it was imploding, it was hidden within the shell.

I had been laying in the debris for years

lost and utterly alone.

Too much for me to handle,

I created a dream world to live in

I built walls around the destruction

until even I could no longer see it.


I’ve finally awoken from my dream

and the walls are coming down.

Though it feels like my world is coming to an end again

I’m merely back where I began,

laying in the debris of where it first fell apart.

This time it is different,

I am no longer lost or alone.

I am mourning for my broken world

I am weeping for what has gone,

But in the midst I am rebuilding

With help, I am picking up the pieces

to create my new and better world.